


Then They Were Four

by sea_verity



Category: Gundam Wing
Genre: Dark, Depression, Gen, Implied Relationships, Implied/Referenced Self-Harm, Loss of Innocence, Near Death Experiences, Suicidal Thoughts, Suicide
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-08-07
Updated: 2016-08-07
Packaged: 2018-07-29 21:28:28
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 896
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7700314
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sea_verity/pseuds/sea_verity
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>They were once five little soldiers, trying to do a job.<br/>One fell off,<br/>And then they were four.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Then They Were Four

The gentle hum of the window-mounted fan soothed the troubled thoughts of the boy laying on the bed. And he was a boy, still, even after all he’d went through. He'd killed, almost been killed, and seen more darkness than he'd ever believed could exist in the world. But he was still just a boy, wondering who he was and where he fit into the world.  
The boy looked about his studio apartment, taking in the small world around him. It was mostly empty, sparse, clean, like he wished his mind could be. He wished he could just erase all the darkness in him. A sigh escaped him when his eyes alighted on the photo of his friends on the night-stand.  
What would he tell them?  
They were five, once. Five kids forced to act like soldiers, forced to fight and kill and destroy a world they'd never gotten to see. Then there was no more fighting, and their weapons were gone, and there wasn't any need for them any more.  
He remembered the parties and long talks they'd all had, but couldn't remember what was done or said. They'd joked about what they'd do now, but it was never serious. They'd hid behind the resiliency that had gotten them though war, never knowing that it was now gone, leaving them facing everything with neither shield nor sword.  
Then they were four. Five had once stood so strong, and suddenly one was gone. One had taken a gun and an empty prayer, seeking a greater asylum than life could provide.  
Televised tragedy, reported with hidden joy.  
It left four young adults trying to learn how to live, how to be someone other than the people they were. They struggled to just be people after so long of being nothing but a weapon. The world seemed to anticipate their failure, to rejoice in it, seeing them as weapons even though their weapons were gone.  
Duo had told him brokenly over warm, half-empty beers that he was scared. He was scared that he couldn't make something of this life and that he, too, would give up. Duo cried, sitting on the bench by the lake. He cried for every chance he'd never had, for every dream he couldn't live, and for every heart that no longer beat because of what he'd done.  
Mostly, though, he cried because he could and he needed to. And he didn't cry alone. Quatre shed tears every night. Down to mere skin and bones, the blond who'd once seemed so untouched finally admitted to the pain that consumed him.  
He'd kept busy, trying to distract himself from the fears that plagued him day and night. He traveled, and set up relief efforts and orphanages. He built workplaces to bring jobs to war-ravished communities. He helped so many people, but refused any help for herself.  
And they were almost three.  
Duo, the street kid and orphan who was typically seen as an idiot, a prankster, someone who always had a good joke and a smile - he kept them four. He babied Quatre through months of recovery, monitoring his food, water, and medication like a mother hen with one chick. The process was long and painful, and sometimes it seemed hopeless, but it was worth it, and they were four.  
But it was Trowa who fell the farthest from the light. Lost to alcohol-induced numbness that faintly echoed the numbness of his heart, he seemed impossible to help. He'd disappeared from the world as silently as he walked it, and it was only sheer dumb luck that saved the boy from himself. It was luck that had led Wufei to the wrong hospital looking for a fellow Preventer agent, and that luck led him to hang around long enough to hear Trowa's name mentioned by one nurse to another.  
They were four, but it would be so quick and easy to make that three. Then from three, they would be none.  
It had been years since the wars ended. Three had gotten their minds on the right path and were learning how to live again. The pain and hatred and darkness still lurked within them, but they were beginning to understand it. They were healing.  
And he was falling apart.  
Years ago he would've wasted away, welcomed the final embrace of nothingness. He thought of the ultimate peace, of absolute freedom, and yearned for it. But the years that had passed had changed him, and he turned away from the darkness. He reached not for salvation, but for a savior.  
"Duo's House of Horror, where every delight comes-"  
"Duo," he rasped, wondering if he could even be heard over the noise.  
The man on the other end of the line went some place quieter. When he spoke again, his voice wasn't the carefree lilt of usual, but the gentle, loving tone few were privileged to hear.  
"Fei, are you okay?"  
"No." He hesitated, wondering if he had the courage to ask for this. Though far away, Duo seemed to hear his thoughts.  
"Anything you need, just ask. Ask, Fei. Please ask."  
Duo's desperate insistence battered away any hesitancy Wufei still held. He asked.  
"Will you please help me?"  
"With?"  
"With keeping us four."  
Alone in a supply closet, Duo beamed. He couldn't keep the joy from his face, or his voice. "I'll be right there."

**Author's Note:**

> May have a slightly uplifting epilogue, if I decide it fits.


End file.
